


Ars draconum

by bishoujosenshi



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M, but sex is definitely gonna happen i'm sure, dragons are real and WALK AMONG US, holy shit dragons, in which garrett hawke is the most awkward person ever, questionable science, sort of a crossover, theme parks and gays, will add as I go along tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 06:12:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4293807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bishoujosenshi/pseuds/bishoujosenshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thanks to the progression of modern science, dragons are real and now walk among us. Based on and inspired by the popular Jurassic Park/World series. Features awkward animal lover Garrett Hawke and brooding scientist Fenris... and too many others to name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tribulationis

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Here's a small disclaimer to start us off.
> 
> This fic deals with the concept of biochemical engineering of dragons as a new species based on DNA from dinosaur fossils and other animal parts. I'm no expert scientist by any means, and as such, hope you take most of the more scientific and analytical content you see with an open mind and healthy imagination. My dear beta is much more knowledgeable in the subject and will help correct me and keep things mostly accurate... but the fact remains that science, at this moment, cannot make dinosaurs OR dragons out of thin air, so keep that in mind as well. :) We're here to have fun, right!?
> 
> Thank you and happy reading!!  
> \-- Meaghan

_“At what point then is the approach of danger to be expected? I answer, if it ever reach us, it must spring up amongst us. It cannot come from abroad. If destruction be our lot, we must ourselves be its author and finisher.”_  
– Abraham Lincoln 

\--

“Barnaby, I’m going to need you to step back a notch.”

A strange statement made even stranger by the fact that it was a burly, bearded man who addressed not one of his kind posing a threat but… a tiny dragonling. For those who knew Garrett Hawke, however, this perhaps came as no surprise. The creature in question snapped its teeth, a tiny yet piercing growl following.

“Now, now! I already fed you plenty this morning. You’ve stolen Cecelia and Ivy’s scraps too, I’m sure. Is that any way to treat your sisters?”

Another growl and Hawke tilted his head toward the sound. Ah, Remilius was adding his input. Always the chatty troublemaker. He responded in kind with a clicker in his palm; with two in quick succession, four pairs of yellowed eyes stared up at him. Much better.

“That’s it, eyes up. Pay attention to me or you’ll all miss dinner.”

They didn’t know the words, of course, and yet they were quite attentive, bright and inquisitive as they followed his clicking hand. After a momentary pause, he whistled, the beasts quickly moving towards the direction his arm then pointed towards. With each animal now herded into the smaller observation enclosures, Hawke relaxed, watching the interns nervously lock up the cages under their superiors’ watchful eye. The nerves never really went away, he realized… and yet, he still smiled. 

It had been years of this. Years of watching as more and more data was added to what was perhaps the most innovative scientific endeavor in the known world. Growing phenomenon could hardly cover what had been created here – no, technology and intelligence had advanced to the point of seemingly creating species out of thin air. This was an age that hardly had limits, a time in the universe in which the fantasy became reality.

This was the Dragon Age.

Or at least that is what guests were told upon entering the theme park of the same name. _“A wonder of modern science, a triumph in the advancement of knowledge and genetic study.”_ Fanatical rumors and vague dinosaur ancestry were now living and breathing animals, dragons that not only existed outside of lore but could be seen by the public of all ages… with enough money, of course.

And somehow, Hawke was at the center of that, in part responsible for the condition of the very creatures seen by many. Somehow the key word, because sometimes he truly could not believe it himself. Was this actually his life? From some fumbling, awkward college student studying animal science to one of the most widely recognized talents in dragon behavior and handling? …Well. He was still rather awkward. And certainly fumbling. But the dragons didn’t need to know that.

For the most part, even, they didn’t. They were, of course, wild animals – rebellious to be tamed with the natural instinct of predators – but somehow, they favored him. His coworkers noticed, his friends noticed – hell, it seemed like strangers noticed, too. Call it a knack or a gift, Hawke had this way with the beasts. He couldn’t explain it. Professionals couldn’t; not even his own degree could! But there was just… something. A certain powerful something he felt with each one, something that had them listening.

And he was listening, too.

That’s how it had always been. An animal lover by trade for as long as anyone could remember. He’d always been that one weird kid on the street who would play with the bugs on the ground instead of paying attention to the kickball game like he was supposed to. Stuff like that. A nice boy but “a little off” according to most hushed conversation growing up in that tiny Lothering neighborhood. The quiet trend was a description meant to separate and degrade, becoming something like a badge of sad valor he did not necessarily ask for. It followed him through every grade, through most every happening in school and the sports he did not care to play for more than a season of fumbling. Yup, fumbling even at that age.

But the animals never cared. He had always found their friendship much easier to attain – patience and respect was eager to be reciprocated. With animals, it was simple. They rarely judged for reasons that weren’t entirely primal… people, in contrast, judged all the time. People were much more difficult – people were fickle. Mean. Occasionally strange. Not strange like he was (he was so strange. He talked to dragons. Sometimes inanimate objects, too.), but still that kind of strange enough to pose a problem. Two or more awkward, weird people put together was just a recipe for disaster, a solid truth Hawke had learned the hard way. That had been the entirety of his life, after all.

It was a miracle he had walked away with any friends at all. 

Here, however, he was surrounded by them. An important part of the trade was not to be so attached – death was all too common, as was many other factors – but he just could not help himself. There was a heart and soul in these creatures. He could sense it above all else. They were wild animals… and yet. Sometimes even that was too hard to believe.

“Hawke!”

Pulled from his daydreams was probably the most smooth and charming voice he’d ever heard, having first heard it years ago in some general education course he could not care to remember the name of. A short man with a stubby half ponytail, proud scruffy facial hair and enough buttons down on his dress shirt to expose the suggestion of generous chest hair. Varric was, in a word, majestic. In several more, Hawke’s closest friend.

And currently one of the richest men in the entire world.

“Varric!” As the other approached, he offered the shorter man a clap on the back. He responded, of course, with a kind nudge. 

“How’re the little Hellbeasts today?”

“Little and hellish.”

“Naturally. But you certainly keep them at bay, somehow.”

Varric often liked to visit Hawke throughout the day; to be honest, he liked to wander the Park more often than Hawke actually saw him doing any work. Then again… what work DID he have to do? He was hardly an employee – merely a partial owner who had invested, frankly, a shitload of money into this little genetic project. If anything, Dragon Age probably paid him to do just that: nothing at all.

“You busy?” Varric said after another moment, leaning against one of the guardrails. Below them, the dragonlings were chattering and snapping away at one another; even without looking, Hawke knew they were simply playing.

“Busy?” He mirrored, scratching at his hair. “That… depends.” With a tilt of his head, he offered his friend an awkward smile. It was probably a familiar expression between the two. “Am I in trouble?”

“Not particularly, no. Although word’s gonna get out about your little stint with the vending machine the other day.”

“It stole the last of my cash and wouldn’t give me my snack. The situation was dire!”

“Dire and also stealing, although I’m hardly one to talk.”

They both laughed; with a wave of his arm, Varric lead the way down the stairs and towards the office below.

“I’ve been sent on semi-official business. Your name comes up a lot in lab work, you know.”

“So I really am in trouble.”

“I never said it was anything bad. In fact, you must be aware of your impact on the little beasts.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong about that. Regardless, however, Hawke’s smile was sheepish, shaking his head just a bit. “They’re just… I don’t know. I just like them, that’s all. Makes the work easy. Enjoyable.”

“And the big people notice, Hawke.” And the other smiled, too. “Enough to want to pick your brain for knowledge.”

“My brain?” It was incredulous; what would the scientists want with him? Sure, he wasn’t at all bad at what he did, but… “Isn’t the lab work best left to the scientists? I’ll stay out here in the mud, thanks.”

“Hey, hey. This could be a great opportunity for you! For the future of these animals, too. Isn’t that important to you?”

Hawke really did hate the way Varric could charm. Especially with mention of the animals, he was already invested in whatever else he’d say. Besides… Varric was technically the reason he had this job in the first place. If not for his good word, well… what would he even be doing at this point? Living at home shuffling around some crappy zoo in Lothering? If there was success to be had, it was usually Varric at the center of its creation.

Finally, he sighed. 

“… Well. I guess I’m listening.”

 

The proposal had been simple enough: why not involve the input of those who directly work with the animals in the creation of future species? Dragon Age was always looking to add more animals to the mix and what better way to expand than referring to those who knew the most about their various behavior?

To be honest, Hawke couldn’t even fathom what kind of genetic makeup it took to make these creatures in the first place. The scientists responsible for the creation thereof were appropriately secretive; ultimately, it would be poor business practice to operate otherwise. As such, he approached this situation blindly. There was only so much Varric could tell him, and if not even he knew what was happening, it must be some kind of big secret project in the works.

Nevertheless, whatever it was, he was in this for the animals, and found himself soon enough heading towards the off-location laboratory to meet with who would become his new partner, in a way. He sure loved meeting people and this totally wouldn’t go wrong in some way, nope. The building upon arrival was large and white, the kind of large and commanding architecture that sought to impress as well as intimidate. Its bright color stuck out amongst the foliage of the area around them, hardly attempting to disguise itself as anything other than big business. He hadn’t been here in a long time – never really had a reason to – and frankly didn’t like it.

With every step he climbed towards the large main doorway, he felt his confidence waning more and more. Places like these were a necessary evil in the manner of animal control, but he couldn’t help but feel them to be too… impersonal. It just seemed so cold here, so unlike anything that could have created the animals he had come to know with such personality and character. No matter; he had a responsibility to this place regardless of his feelings. A deep breath, and he stepped inside.

The inner walls were just as pristine as the outer appearance, but at least this time resembled something more like a place in which humans actually worked with animals. A quick glance revealed a sense of pride he understood at face value: _“‘Dragon Age’ Perhaps Best Accomplishment of Modern Science In Known History,” “Dragons Walk and Fly the Earth in Science’s Greatest Marvel,” “Science Looks To ‘Dragon Age’ When Asking ‘What Could Possibly Be Next?’”_ These headlines were just a few that emblazoned the surrounding hallway as he stepped through the narrow entrance. As it opened up, newspaper clippings became large posters detailing snapshots of genetic study, dragon anatomy, even some of the first fossils used in creating the beasts that now made up the park. In a way, it reminded him of the big science museum he used to visit in Redcliffe. It was like he was a small kid again, eagerly eyeing bones and preserved fossils of dinosaurs… only this time, of course, there was hardly the lingering regret of not having seen them alive. Dragon science, having direct descent from dinosaur science, had filled that void. 

A large metal sculpture of the first dragon species created in the parks stood proudly in the center of the room; she was a familiar breed, dotingly named Flemeth, wings extended as her maw stretched into a roar he could practically hear from sight alone. In front of her, a glossy black desk—ah, yes, there he was.

“There he is. The only guy more famous around here than me!” Paired with a grin, of course, was Alistair – one third of what had started this entire company.

A smile like his in such a rigid environment already relaxed Hawke considerably; soon, he smiled, as well, offering his hand to shake. “Always a pleasure, Alistair.”

“That’s Ali—actually, wait. Yes. You’re one of the few who actually calls me by my first name as I request. It’s like these people think I’ll fire them or something!” Chatty, as always, but Hawke felt better and better even if Alistair seemed so painfully out of place here. “So tell me, Hawke: how much do you know about our little arrangement today?”

Admittedly? Nothing. And that was exactly what he said. “Nothing. Not even Varric could tell me anything other than the fact that I am apparently not in trouble.”

“Well he’s right about that, at least! …This time, that is.” He tilted his head, the smile remaining with an added wink. No wonder he and Varric had chosen to conspire on this together – the two of them could charm with just a single look. “But do come along. It’ll all make sense soon.”

Following Alistair’s lead took the pair further into the confines of the laboratory. It was another long hallway, this time with clear windows on either side. Like bees in a hive, the workers inside didn’t even glance away from their projects; some were clad in masks hunched over microscopes, others observing scans on large computer screens and making notes with stylus pens. Completely undisturbed they went about their business with icy expressions of concentration. Despite the other’s assurance, Hawke found that it began to make even less sense than before as they walked deeper and deeper; even his knowledge of animal science paled in comparison when faced with cold hard biochemical engineering. It was like he and these people hadn’t even studied the same blanket subject… sadly, it was easy to feel dumb and unqualified; in fact, the dirt on his skin and disheveled clothing actually felt like a mess, now.

“Scary, right? I can’t say I understand any of it.” Alistair’s cheery voice broke the silence. He surveyed the area with an unfamiliarity that Hawke realized was probably due to the fact that the other rarely went back here. He hardly had a reason to – his wife usually took care of things. “It’s like they can speak a completely different language with genetics. I used to wonder how any of this was possible, even as Flemeth first stood before us so many years ago…”

He offered an awkward laugh and Hawke laughed, too, completely unsure of how else to respond. There was, at least, a small comfort in knowing that even Alistair questioned his own multi-million dollar success story at times. The operation seemed much less fanatical that way.

“I guess you’ll learn all of that soon, though. In no time at all you’ll be thinking just like these scientists do!”

“… Is that so?” What a terrifying concept.

“Sure. You’ll be working directly with one of them, after all.” Perhaps encouraged by Hawke’s expression – which could only be described as a potent mix of disappointment, fear, and curiosity – Alistair laughed again, continuing. “Hawke, you must know how much handlers like you are an asset to this company. We could not advance without people who really get the animals like you do.”

Never one for praises – much less twice in one day – Hawke flushed, scratching his cheek. “I, er. …Well, thank you.”

He was met with another golden smile that simply made him flush more. It was terribly easy to turn him to a tomato, and attractive people paying him compliments reduced him to the same awkward gangly boy in high school that could hardly speak in class for fear of forgetting his own name (Which completely happened, by the way. The source of the anxiety had not been memorable, but the name he had chosen to blurt out hurt like a stab wound) —

“Of course. And we don’t just say that about everyone. You, in fact, are one of a kind, which is exactly why we’ve picked you to be the first in this experiment! Isn’t that exciting?”

God please stop with the compliments. “… …Alright. But what… is that?”

A hand was clapped onto his shoulder; Hawke eyed it before looking back up at the other with raised brows. “You will be working closely with one of our scientists to help create our next species of dragon! We can’t think of anyone better suited to for this hands-on task. You’ll be creating the most sentient, humane creature yet!”

Those words together… it felt strange, but Alistair’s enthusiasm was enough that Hawke felt himself nodding. Varric had said up and down how this mattered for the future of the animals; it seemed Alistair felt the same way by involving Hawke.

“… Okay. I’m up to the task.”

“Great!” And perfect timing, in fact – they reached the end of the hallway, standing in front of two large double doors. Everything was so much bigger in here, Hawke realized. “You’ll be meeting him now. Ready?”

Following another wordless nod, Alistair opened the door, allowing Hawke to step inside first. The room was much more open at the top; it was an atrium of sorts, the high ceiling made up of many windows. Above, the late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, offering pink light in the distance. It was a strange kind of beautiful, he decided, watching for a minute more before Alistair led them inside further. Was this a much more select group than the rest of the labs before?

“Oh, Alistair!” A blonde man looked up from what was probably extremely complicated work, coming to meet them from around his desk. The scruff around his face lifted into a smile as he eyed the two of them. “Is this him?”

“Yes indeed! Sorry we took so long; I took the scenic route for our dear friend here.” Alistair winked and Hawke could only awkwardly stare. There was a shorter and less intimidating way to go? “This is Anders. He’s one of our brightest biochemical engineers working directly with animal creation.”

He could hardly dwell on the other’s words before he was shaking this Anders’s hand. The grip was awkward. Anxious but clumsy with enthusiasm. 

“Garrett Hawke, right? I’ve heard so much about you!”

“Just Hawke is fine.” 

“Hawke.” He tested, grin softening. “Okay. Like I said I, um… Well, I’ve heard a lot. You really care for the animals.” Was Anders… nervous? “That’s not a common theme around here, sometimes. Not that we, um… we don’t abuse any of the creatures we work with or create, you see, I just… your work is admirable, and—ah, well, I’m making a mess of this, aren’t I?”

With more shock than the other could possibly imagine, Hawke had perhaps finally met someone more awkward than he. His surprise was palpable in his face; nevertheless, however, Anders was wholeheartedly genuine and he could only smile back in an attempt to break the silence that had begun to form around them. “… You’re very kind…” He said, positively bright red. He needed to deflect despite the fact that he was the supposed guest of honor in this situation. “And what you all do here is really… really something.”

“It’s just a bunch of numbers and cell chains, really.” He was trying to deflect too? Great, this would go so well. “Animals are just so interesting… especially these crossbreeds. They’re made up of so many different parts; like you’re creating your own puzzle… each one is so personal. They’re complicated and delightful, strange but endearing—“

“And there’s plenty more where that came from, eh?” Alistair smiled in such a way that Hawke realized he must be aware of how weird all of this was. Though a nice guy, he did not handle “awkward” well. “I hate to pull away but I’ve got to get him introduced elsewhere.”

“Oh…” The other sounded distant – disappointed? – before shaking his head. “A-ah, yes. Of course. …Well, um… I am happy you’ll be around the lab more. It’s nice to know someone of your expertise will be looking out for our future developments.” The pause this time was significantly shorter but still a touch too awkward for Hawke not to notice. 

“Until next time… Hawke.” He smiled and regardless of how weird it was, Hawke smiled back. If the scientist he was to work with was anything like this Anders, the operation could actually be… pleasant. Certainly there were others like him here, right?

Waving to Anders, he was shuffled in further; Alistair took to a door on the opposite side of the room labeled “PROJECTING: PLEASE KNOCK FIRST!” Although he probably could just as easily disregard the rule given his status, just as it commanded he rapped on the window, calling, “It’s me! I’m coming in!”

He opened the door, motioning for Hawke to lead. The room was smaller than the atrium, dark and quiet. It almost resembled a much more hi tech version of a meeting room in any typical business setting – at the end of a long table was a large screen podium where a man hunched over his work. He hardly looked up as the door was open, clearly more focused on the screen that lit his features. A sharp nose, lowered brows, and eyes squinted around black, thick-framed glasses that were a little too stylish for a place like this. His body and face were bathed in both darkness and distance, though Hawke could make out even from here faint tattoos and pale hair. If not for his look of hardened concentration, he would have looked terribly out of place here: in fact, he seemed better suited as an amateur photography student sulking around a Starbucks café.

“May I?” Alistair said from near the door.

A moment passed before the other looked up at him. “The lights?” And looked down again. His voice was deep, once more out of place in his appearance. Even his words were strangely detached: it was hardly a question and certainly not a command. Another silence, and Alistair acted of his own accord to lighten the room.

The scientist now straightened, albeit reluctantly, before grabbing a clipboard long abandoned at his side. He did not wear a lab coat like Anders had, instead clad in all black, crisp attire with an ID card – much like he had as well – pinned to his lapel. His sleeves were rolled up; Hawke’s gaze trailed and noticed more tattoos as the other moved closer. With every step he took, the other was slightly more… familiar. But how could that make any sense? Wouldn’t Hawke have remembered seeing someone like this? Someone with such angled features, tattoos white against his darker skin, bright eyes that could pierce with the deft stab of a knife—

“Hawke, this is Fenris. He will be the scientist you’ll be assisting for the next few months. Fenris, this is Garrett Hawke.”

Like an abrupt car accident, Hawke’s realization was clear. Names were shared, the other’s face twisting with sudden and similar disgust.

They had already met.

Months prior, they had slept together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First one in the books! Thank you Jacob for beta -- you help keep me together (and sound slightly less dumb). Very excited to share the rest of this with you guys and will try to update as frequently as possible. Until next time!


	2. Occursu, part 1

_“There is no such thing as accident; it is fate misnamed.”_

\-- Napoleon Bonaparte

 

From the moment Hawke saw him, Fenris had been unforgettable.

It had been a night that wasn’t particularly special -- a night in which Varric needled his awkward bearded friend into having some fun which ended up with the two of them taking up space at a seedy bar. The Hanged Man, of course – Varric’s absolute favorite. Like he was most every place he seemed to go, Varric was something of a celebrity to the patrons and staff. He might as well have owned the place.

The energy was lively, shrouded in smoke. Voices were loud but one did not shout over the other. Though a little weird, the people were interesting. Funny. It was no wonder that a man like Varric felt it good to come to a place like this – he fit in. Right in. Immediately, as he always did.

Hawke had always been so envious.

But there was one person, someone else who stuck out that even Varric did not recognize. A shock of white hair. Thick glasses, stylish around an angular face. Several visible tattoos, their placement suggesting perhaps hidden ones as well. Even from a distance, Hawke could tell he was handsome, his appearance unique and refreshing. He didn’t belong here… but neither did Hawke. There was magnetism. Attraction. Something in common he could not ignore.

This man was hardly the man he had met that night.

Perhaps in appearance – too unique to replicate so easily in a stranger – but hardly in mannerism. Although foggy, Hawke remembered enough to know that he had met a charming, cunning wit. A pointed smile, canines just a bit too sharp. When eyes met, the other was piercing green, yet gentle as well. His skin had been soft, his words a low rumble that somehow carried over a noisy crowd--

Damn you, alcohol.

The same warmth did not stare back at him. In fact, it remained surprised, shocked and mildly disgusted. Was Hawke really that horrendous in post? Sure, his expression right now was probably nothing pleasing to look at, and certainly peculiar (as always)--

And yet, he hadn’t been the one who had left without a trace the morning after. The anger and hurt that came with opening one’s heart was palpable. It settled in his chest like a rock, that same damn feeling of realizing that a body could be used once and taken for granted, simply left alone as if nothing had previously mattered. He didn’t enjoy the trend this was already becoming, alcohol always at the forefront of these mistakes. It didn’t really pay off to be such a romantic bleeding heart, and once more, he had been reduced to a sniveling high school student.

 _Damn you,_ alcohol.

 “No.” Fenris was the first to speak, the once kind timbre now the same agitation he had shown them upon their entry. “I will not allow this.”

“Fenris, please.” Alistair cut in – poor, sweet, unknowing Alistair – that usual charming yet confused smile bright and gleaming on his puzzled face, “You seem averse to facial hair, I know, but trust me when I tell you that Garrett here is one of the best we have here!”

A badly timed compliment and an equally ineffective joke at the expense of Hawke’s self-esteem? Not only was this really not the time for Hawke to be questioning his appearance but it seemed like most everyone was competing for the role of most awkward person to exist. Couldn’t Hawke keep the title role without having to suffer the attempts of his colleagues? He was, after all, more used to being its owner.

But whereas he expected the other to fire back with something along the lines of “You don’t understand” or even “Shut up” if he were brave (or angry) enough, Fenris said nothing of the sort. In fact, he turned away, back towards the podium he had abandoned. His head turned, profile almost admiring the door as if questioning whether or not he could simply run out of the room and get away with it. At least he and Hawke could agree on this effort.

Following a silence much more painful than the many Hawke had already dealt with today – because no matter how his temper slowly rose he wasn’t going to try and say jack shit in these circumstances – Fenris finally scoffed, a hand reaching to pinch the bridge of his nose. “And you are certain that no one else can babysit him? This is beneath me.”

“Well—“

“Yes, in fact.”

A new voice would break up the tension in the room and replace it with an entirely new discomfort: authority, forward and commanding. Upon turning to the source it was, of course, none other than the true head of this whole operation. The Warden herself, as she was affectionately nicknamed, although it was probably only Alistair who used it in that manner.

“Oh, look who it is!” His melodious response followed, throwing an arm over his wife’s shoulders. God he sounded relieved. “The sunshine on my cloudy days, the light in my darkened skies—“

“Sweetheart, please.” Despite what was obviously continued badly timed compliments, she still smiled (sort of) just for a moment. But just as quickly as it came, it went as she looked towards the two issues in the room, both of which seemed intimidated as she stared them down. “Now what seems to be the problem, exactly? A questioning of company decision?”

Silence. She was not amused and had presumably been watching this operation from start to finish. Alistair attempted to remedy, releasing her and chattering, “It’s just a small disagreement!” Small certainly wasn’t the word Hawke would use but frankly he hadn’t said anything for a solid five minutes and it was going to stay that way until forced otherwise.

“Gentlemen,” The Warden ignored her husband, arms crossing. “I don’t care for the details. I simply need you both to understand that you do not have a choice in the manner you’ve been assigned to.”

Fenris’s brow twitched, obviously bothered but not enough to defy her. Clearly, he knew better.

“As some of the most competent this company has to offer I shouldn’t have to tell you the importance of what we’ve called you to do. Without your collaborative efforts, we have no future.” With a quick yet smooth motion, she would take the clipboard from Fenris’s hands; once more, his brow twitched. “Tell me, Fenris,” She began, flipping through the sheets, “This structure you were studying. What were you putting together?”

He relaxed only slightly, gaze moving between her and the other two before answering, “… The first was the raptor fossil sample we’ve been working with for ages, followed by komodo dragon for temperament, essence of _draco volans_ for the appearance of wings and frilled lizard for additional appearance.”

“I see.” She hummed after a moment, considering the explanation carefully. Turning to Hawke, she raised her brows, a softness to her hardened features. “And tell me, Garrett, what could we expect the new animal’s traits to be?”

“Me?” Was what he blurted out first, shaking his head a bit. “I-I mean. Yes. Of course.” He cleared his throat, attempting his best recovery. “… One could expect the new animal to be of considerable size and speed with large frills around the neck and possibly tail… The, um, ‘wings’ would alter the animal’s rib and torso structure.”

“Certainly. But what of its behavior?”

Fenris spoke up once more, “What we know of the animals involved—“

“I would like Garrett to tell me.”

The scientist scoffed, folding his arms. Another bruise to an ego one could suspect was already battered at this point.

“… Right.” He took a moment, turning his gaze intently elsewhere. His eyes ended up fixating on Fenris’s ID card on his lapel; unsurprisingly, the man did not smile for his photo. Meanwhile, Hawke’s own goofy grin was somewhere shoved into a pocket. “… The raptor genetics would most likely result in an animal capable of taking basic direction… but the komodo dragon is not the best choice to mix despite its… favorable size.”

“Is that so?” Fenris would speak up, clearly unamused. “Are you suddenly an expert?”

Rude. “I’ve worked with them before… they’re great creatures but really violent and territorial. Saw a guy lose some fingers trying to feed one once in college…” A shrug. It had already been too long of a day to really argue. “Just saying that despite being born in captivity, what you’re putting together would not take well to handlers.”

“Which would be a danger in of itself,” The Warden agreed.

“And a lawsuit. Many lawsuits.” Thanks, Alistair.

Seemingly satisfied, the woman returned the clipboard to Fenris. “… Do you see now why we’ve decided to move forward this way?” She looked between the two men, hands on her hips. “It is science and experience _together_ that can make a difference – it doesn’t benefit us to act like one is more important than the other. We need not just the brain power, but also the real world knowledge and suggestion to make these creatures both believable and as safe as possible. In the end, they’re still wild animals, and we’re merely people trying to play God in their manifest. Does that make sense?”

A rare smile would touch The Warden’s lips as she patted her husband on the back. “Seeing as Garrett was able to visit you today and survey the lab equipment, Fenris, I expect for you to meet him in his office of sorts first thing tomorrow. That is… if it is not still beneath you, of course.”

With an inaudible sigh, he shook his head. “That will be… fine.”

“Great.” She took Alistair’s arm, beginning to lead him away. “That will be all, gentlemen. Until next time.” And just like that, they were gone, Alistair chattering away something along the lines of _“God wasn’t that something! Sweetheart, you were amazing as always—“_

And he was alone. With Fenris.

“… I will be going, as well.” His voice was soft. Angry but not quite the same anger as before. He hardly regarded Hawke before shoving past him, back to the podium, back to shutting himself off.

Hawke watched for a moment, simply too drained to move right away. Just like that, Fenris was truly gone, physically there but in a different mental plane entirely. Perhaps motivated by annoyance or something else – whatever it was, Hawke was no longer a variable in the room. He could observe the scientist without feeling it was wrong… and even as the other had brushed him off continually in the last twenty minutes, Hawke couldn’t help, now, but stare. There was just something about him that remained. Whether in the noise of a bar or the silence of a singular laboratory, there was a pull. Attraction.

Something was still there.

But nothing could be done, and so Hawke, too, left the room. Physically and otherwise.

\--

 “Bethany dear, we’ll be leaving now!”

A young woman of twenty stood in her childhood room, staring up at a bulletin board long abandoned in the understandable circumstance of time. Despite the typical splashes of pink or a tiara here and there, it was distinctly… mature. Or at least, it lacked pictures. Instead, articles. Medical drawings. Clippings and snippets of things society would consider far too worldly for a little girl, but rightfully encouraged by supportive parents. As she aged, however, her need to add to it had faded and faded – it did not follow her to college, after all. But even in slight abandonment, she seemed to prefer it this way. She was different, growing as creatures do, but this had always stayed the same. It remained in the background; a reminder of what she was doing. Why she was doing it.

_“Dragon Age Astounds and Inspires Thousands”_

_“Science and Humanity Alike Applaud Dragon Age Theme Park”_

_“Technology is Limitless: Dragon Age A True Marvel of Scientific Achievement”_

Fanatical, of course, yet with an underlying excitement she, too, could mirror even now. She reached up, fingers touching the worn newspaper clipping with practiced care. How long ago could it have possibly been when time had seemed to move so quickly? Momentarily pensive, something else caught her eye; she paused, turning to study it. A quiet smile.

Bethany traced the same smile that stared back at her: a burly man, bearded and covered in dirt with a dragonling in his arms. A caption below:

_Garrett Hawke, one of the many dragon trainers, works closely with the newest baby species._

“Bethy, did you hear me? You’re going to miss your flight!”

“Oh!” She turned away, hand grazing the board as she moved towards her waiting suitcases. With a deep breath and one more look back at the board, her smile renewed.

“See you soon, Gare.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not only on the shorter side but also took forever to get out there. My new job keeps me so busy sometimes. :( Thank you Jacob for your lovely beta skills once more! The theme, as always, was "Poor Hawke"... and it will probably stay that way. Until next time!!!!


End file.
